


Repercussions - TIMESTAMPS (aka The Unfortunately Totally Unnecessary Destiel Scenes Of A Drarry Story)

by JayEz



Series: Gorgeous [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: M/M, On Indefinite Hiatus, Sorry Not Sorry, now it really is a crossover, that has no place in my Harry/Draco fic, this is the Dean/Castiel plot, timestamps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-06 11:13:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayEz/pseuds/JayEz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or: What happens when an author falls in love with a sub-plot and is getting really annoyed with having to Brit-Pick her stuff all the time. </p><p>Castiel, bastard son of the Milton family and outcast from Triple M, is a mercenary. With morals. His stepbrother Lucifer asks him for a favour, which is how he ends up with Dean, Azazel’s hostage, who seems to have a strange fetish for pie. </p><p>Makes no sense without having read <a> Gorgeous</a> and its sequel. This is not relevant for the understanding of part II; so only read it if you would like to know what happens to Dean and Castiel after Repercussions chapter 1 :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Raised from Perdition

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not sorry. I just wrote this for my own amusement since it’s my head canon for Gorgeous part II but just so totally irrelevant regarding the Harry/Draco side of it all. 
> 
> Still not a SPN crossover (even though it’s tagged as such. Because by the definition of a crossover, this fic is one) since I doubt my characterizations would hold up… And Harry Potter magic and SPN magic kinda, I don’t know. Haven’t been able to make it work in my head. So basically I assume that Dean and his dad John Winchester are hunting fantastical beasts and demons, using a lot of Muggle stuff since their clients are mostly Muggles. 
> 
> EDIT 2016: marked as complete, but officially on indefinite hiatus until I have the time or inspiration to add to it.

Balthazar waltzes into Castiel’s study and promptly flops down into a chair in front of his desk, putting his feet up and crossing his ankles. 

“Well, as it turns out Lucifer’s reasons aren’t entirely pure,” he drawls. 

They are in the middle of their preparations for the subsequent mission and Castiel would rather his associate concentrate on more important matters than Lucifer’s motivation. 

Undeterred by Castiel’s lack of a response, Balthazar carries on. “As far as I could gather, he’s doing this to pay a lawyer back for representing a friend. A Death Eater, above all. Can you imagine?”

Castiel glances up but otherwise still refuses to react. The way he knows Balthazar, he will talk for as long as he deems necessary. 

“Well, granted, he seems to be a reformed Death Eater and he’s accusing four evil sods of raping him, so perhaps we’re working for the greater good after all.”

Balthazar takes his feet off the table and leans forward, a contemplative expression ghosting across his features. “I imagine your stepbrother really wants to get on the lawyer’s good side if he goes to these lengths to rescue his brother. Sam and Dean Winchester… Not much I could find on them except that their father is a hunter, and a bloody notorious one at that.”

Castiel’s head snaps up. Hunters are rare yet dangerous if one crosses their paths on unfriendly terms. They aren’t mere wizards, more akin to trained soldiers, versed in the art of hunting demons and beasts. Much like Castiel himself. Hunters, however, mostly pursue it because they feel it is the right thing to do, not for monetary reasons. 

“John Winchester has gone AWOL, I’m afraid. There is no word whatsoever on his whereabouts. I hope you’re listening, Castiel, because now it becomes interesting,” he says and doesn’t continue until Castiel has graced him with a glance. 

“Winchester senior owes Azazel a debt. No one could tell me what exactly, but it seems to be substantial one if Azazel is willing to kidnap and torture Winchester’s son to have it acquitted.”

“Why do you care?” Castiel can’t resist wondering out loud. They have a task to fulfil, nothing more. Usually, Balthazar follows the same need-to-know rules Castiel does. 

The man shrugs. “I was curious what made dear Lucifer pop in unannounced after he turned his back on America.” 

“Well, I gather your curiosity has been sufficiently satisfied so now you can assist me in drafting a plan?”

Balthazar throws his arms up and laughs, adding a mocking “Yes, my Lord.”

Castiel ignores the remark and pushes a map across the desk. 

*

Dean doesn’t dig the whole religious thing, but if he did, he’d be sure that this is hell. 

When he’s not cooped up in a cold cell in some basement, they torture him, beat him, poke him with hot iron stakes, cut his skin until the blood loss makes him dizzy, then cocker him up with potions instead of food which means his body may be fine but he’s starving and thirsty. 

His throat’s so dry he can’t even scream anymore. Not that he screams. Much. But screw it all, no one will ever know because he’ll die before he gets out of this shithole so he thinks he’s allowed to shout as loud as he wants when they burn his skin. 

All because of dad and some debt he owed to Azazel. But John’s gone, Dean has been looking for him for months without success, and he ain’t coming back. Dean doesn’t share Azazel’s optimism. 

Today it’s waterboarding. 

This is why he prefers dealing with wizards; a little Cruciatus Curse and all’s said and done but demons get creative with torture and Dean hates it. 

It would be easier if they just asked him something, anything. About John, perhaps or Sam. Sweet Sammy, the brother who left. No more family business, off to the greener pastures of college. But Azazel doesn’t care. Resisting interrogation would at least give Dean something to fight for, instead of just having to take whatever the thugs are giving to him. 

He gulps down air in greedy breaths but his vision has already gone blurry and the room is spinning although the chains hanging from the ceiling – magic-proof, damn it – are holding him in position. 

Suddenly the door opens and the last thing Dean sees is the silhouette of an unknown man before he passes out into dark oblivion. 

*

Next thing Dean knows is he’s dreaming. Dreaming of soft pillows and blanket, a warm room and a nice smell. He knows it’s a lie because his home is a cell and his bed is the cold floor and it reeks.

Awareness dawns slowly but old habits die hard and he is focussed immediately, taking in his surroundings. The room is small, the typical cheap-and-no-questions-asked-motel look he knows so fucking well. 

His eyes fall on a man – tall, dark hair, stubble - standing at the foot of his bed, clad in black protective gear fused with magic so powerful Dean can smell it from afar. 

He’s on his feet immediately, grabbing the nearest thing he can find to use as a weapon – never underestimate a pen – though the guy seems unimpressed. His expression remains bland, void of any emotion. 

“Who are you?” Dean asks and it comes out raspy after weeks (months?) of screaming. 

“I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition,” mystery-man replies and isn’t that just great, he’s been kidnapped by a nutter. 

“Yeah? Thanks for that.” A split-second later, Dean is on the guy, aiming to stab the pen in his jugular but the bastard’s faster and has him pressed face down on the mattress, bent over the side of the bed. The man’s elbow is digging into Dean’s shoulder like crazy and it hurts even more for the still raw burn mark located there. 

“We need to talk, Dean.”

“How the fuck do you know my name,” he grinds out, struggling against the hold and shit, that man’s got some muscles. In any other situation Dean could have appreciated that realisation more. 

Apparently the stranger has noticed that he’s hurting him and the hold slackens and is soon completely gone. Dean turns around; grimacing at the pain the movement cause him. He blinks up into electric blue eyes. 

“My name is Castiel. I have been sent to rescue you.”

“By who?”

“Someone who has your best interest in mind.”

“What’s this guy called, then? If he’s so fond of me, I gotta know him, right?”

“I doubt that,” Castiel replies, and seriously, how can this guy not do inflections? His voice is monotonous, though if Dean’s being honest, he likes the gravelly quality of it. “His name is Lucifer.”

The hilarity of it sends Dean straight into the longest laughing fit he had in a very long time. Probably since John disappeared. 

“Lucifer?” he gasps between laughing so hard his side start to hurt. 

Castiel tilts his head. “Why does this information amuse you?”

“Amuse me? Holy crap, getting rescued by a guy who’s named after the devil, that’s just,” Dean takes a breath, “priceless.”

Castiel waits patiently until Dean has calmed down, his brows furrowed. “As I said. Lucifer has tasked me to release you from Azazel’s power and bring you to London.”

“Wait, London? Like, the British one?”

Castiel considers this. Well, Dean’s best guess is that he does anyway. It’s not like his expression changes that much. 

“He did not specify but I sincerely doubt he was referring to London, Texas or London, Illinois since he himself is living in the United Kingdom.”

Dean manages to pass of his next laugh as a cough. “So what, some guy tells you to get me out and you do it; what are you, like some kind of mercenary?”

“I am. Yet I do not accept every mission. I do not hurt the innocent.”

That’s it, Dean decides. Some punk with a weird name and a hired wizard with ethics, he’s outta here. 

“Look, pal, I’m not buying what you’re selling, so who are you really?”

“I am Castiel. My mission is to bring you to London as soon as possible.”

“But why? What would some dude over there want with me?”

“My associate reasons it has to do with your brother.”

Dean tenses in his spot on the bed. “Sammy?”

Castiel nods. 

“What about Sam? Is he okay?” 

“As far as we could gather, yes. My contractor intends to do him a favour.”

Something tugs at Dean’s memory, somewhere in the part reserved for happier times and he remembers a phone call one Christmas when John was out to fetch some beers and Dean just couldn’t resist the urge to phone his brother and wish him Merry Christmas. He’d talked about a Lucifer back then. 

“Why’s Sam’s boss doing him a favour? How the hell does he know about me in the first place?”

“I am not privy to that information. I apologise.” 

“Really, Cas, what’s with the stick up your ass?”

“Cas?”

“Sorry for not bothering with the syllables, buddy, but I’m fucking starving and my throat’s as dry as a dead Flobberworm.”

“Oh, yes. Balthazar thought you would require food. He will be back shortly.”

“Who’s Balthazar?”

“My associate. He helped free you.”

Dean nods and silence stretches between them. His back starts to hurt for real now so he decides that if Cas is secretly really plotting to kill him, he might as well die comfortable, and lies back down on the motel bed. 

It doesn’t take long until Balthazar gets here. He’s lean with some shade of dirty blond hair and older than Dean expected but he’s bearing food so he really doesn’t care. 

“Room service,” he announces cheerfully and sets the boxes of take-out down on the kitchen counter. “How’s our mark?”

“I have a name,” Dean snaps, stomach growling as the smell of burgers hits his nose.

“Oh, isn’t he ray of sunshine.”

“He requires food; I fathom his mood is susceptible to the feeling.”

“Damn right I’m bitchy! I’ve been Azazel’s punching bag for the past few weeks. Haven’t had much besides potions and some water so that food better be all for me.”

Balthazar rolls his eyes but nods. “Are you strong enough to eat at the table?”

“Yes,” Dean grinds out, already halfway out of bed. He regrets his proud posturing as soon as he takes a few steps, though he’ll be damned if he acts like a sissy now. 

The food’s delicious and Dean gulps down the whole bottle of water. More than one burger, however, is not possible. 

“I figured,” Balthazar drawls with a raised eyebrow. “After these wankers starved you for two months I’d have been surprised if you could have stomached more than that. Here, Castiel, I brought lasagne, too.”

Then Dean glimpses a small box in another bag. “Buddy, is that pie?”

Balthazar follows his glance and his eyes narrow when he sees the box. “Yes. Why?”

“Man, you’re the best rescue squad ever.”

The two men may have been thrown by the sudden change in his mood but Dean barely notices as he tears open the box. 

Oh, sweet freedom.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam, reunited once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only revised, not betaed so any necessary changes will be made soon. But I wanted to post today :) 
> 
> Regarding the timeline – the first scenes play out on Saturday and Sunday, February 1st and 2nd 2003. Saturday is also the day that Rita Skeeter’s article appeared in the Prophet and Draco had his heart-to-heart with Lucifer.

Recovery is gradual, but steady. Dean figures he’s lucky that both Castiel and Balthazar seem to be really capable wizards or else his wounds might have taken weeks to heal instead of days. 

“I’m afraid it will scar,” Castiel says and his tone is almost rueful as he puts salve on Dean’s burnt shoulder. 

“Not my first scar, Cas, don’t get your tits in a twist.”

When his statement is met with silence, Dean turns his head to find his savior staring at him. Without so much as blinking. It’s creepy as fuck. 

“What?”

“Why would I twist my breasts?” 

Dean has no idea how to react to that. “It’s nothing. Just something people say.”

“Why?”

“Jesus,” Dean swears, the Muggle expression sneaking in out of habit after years of mostly dealing with non-magic folk on his hunts. “I don’t know, okay?”

“What does it mean?”

“That you shouldn’t worry about it. Really, are you living behind a rock or something?”

“You have to excuse my associate,” Balthazar drawls from the doorway. “He isn’t really from this world.”

“You mean he’s a demon?” Dean tenses against Cas’ hand on his back. 

“I am not a creature,” he defends himself. “My social skills are merely, well, rusty. That is all.”

“Yeah, and you talk like you got a stick up your ass, buddy,” Dean snorts, somehow glad that Castiel resumes applying the salve in soothing motions. 

Balthazar throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, you have no idea, Dean,” he manages between fits of laughter before he abruptly sobers. “Now, however, to more urgent matters. I have organised our trip across the pond; the portkey leaves tomorrow morning. Where should we go in London?” 

“Lucifer’s flat, though you shall have to wait outside. I’m afraid I am the only one allowed inside the wards.”

Dean snorts. “Paranoid much?”

Balthazar fixes him with a stern look. “You would be, too, were you in his position. He has many enemies and even more allies. Do your best not to cross him.”

“Well, I could try but he can’t really harm me if he wants Sammy to be happy.”

Balthazar purses his mouth, apparently unable to argue Dean’s point. 

They spend the night just like the last few. Balthazar orders food, they eat, Dean tries not to make himself sick but after weeks of starvation, he really doesn’t care if his stomach complains or if he eats like a caveman. Besides, there’s no graceful way to devour a cheeseburger anyway.

“You should get some rest,” Cas advises at nine freaking pm. “The day ahead will be exhausting.”

“I’m not a fucking invalid, Cas, I can handle a portkey.” That may not be totally true but he’s better at handling those than he would be with a plane. Dean shudders mentally. Planes. 

“I’m aware that you are in good shape yet after the weeks of stress your body had to suffer through it would be best if you rest too much rather than too little.”

Dean’s sure Cas’ argument is valid (they mostly are) but that’s not what his brain gets hung up on. 

“Wait, you think I’m in ‘good shape’?”

Castiel blinks and swallows. “Objectively speaking.”

“Sure,” he drawls with a smirk on his face. “Then I better get changed for bed. I need to be rested for tomorrow after all.” As smoothly as his injuries will allow, Dean strips off his t-shirt. “Or do you think you could put the salve on me one last time, Cas? It’s still itching like a bitch.”

Even though Balthazar breaks the moment by laughing out loud, it’s worth to see Castiel actually splutter for a moment before his usual stoic composure has returned. 

In the end, he applies the salve and Dean’s almost okay with going to bed at 9.30 on a Saturday. 

*

Dean wishes he would have discovered the highly amusing pastime of teasing Castiel a little earlier and not on their last evening together, but life’s a bitch and doesn’t Dean know it. 

At least they get to the portkey without running into any more trouble, so there’s that. Long-distance travel is always difficult though, and Dean’s stomach isn’t what it used to be which means he’s retching against a stone wall the second they land. 

Once he’s cleaned everything up - wandlessly on top of that and no, he’s not showing off – he takes a look around. 

So this must be London, UK. The island Sammy fled to. The cold island, on top of everything. Just great. Couldn’t he have chosen something sunny and warm? With palm trees, preferably?

His train of thought suddenly stops, though and Dean’s chest is suddenly tight as he realises that for the first time in years, he’s going to see his little brother again. He wonders if Sam’s grown into his limbs yet or if he’s still as big a dork as he used to be, good in a fight but too small to take on the big bullies wherever they went. 

“All right, I suggest we’re waiting here while you contact Lucifer,” Balthazar speaks up and Castiel is gone without making a noise. Dean’s finding it hard not to be impressed as he gazes – looks, definitely looks – after the man. 

*

Given the turmoil of the day before, Lucifer was looking forward to have his Sunday to himself, using it to unwind and not think about a certain tall, attractive wizard.

Then, of course, someone has to knock on his door. 

Lucifer grudgingly extracts himself from the pile of parchment, all of them covered in lists, charts and spread sheets, and peers through the peephole. 

“Castiel!” he greets his stepbrother and gestures him inside. So much to his plans for a Sam-free Sunday. “I take it everything went well?”

“Of course, Lucifer. Did I give you reason to worry?”

“No, you didn’t. Just making conversation but I should have known better,” he adds as an explanation that is completely lost on Castiel. 

“We should go. Dean and Balthazar are waiting in a side street. I’m sure Dean is eager to see his brother.”

“Oh, wanting to rid yourself of him already?”

To his surprise and general astonishment, Castiel hesitates, his blue eyes clouded with what looks suspiciously like emotion. Which one, however, Lucifer can’t identify. 

“Well, lead the way, then,” he orders, grabbing his cloak as he does so and within the blink of an eye what Lucifer thinks he saw is gone, replaced by the blank look he is used to. _Poker face_ , he thinks the Muggles call it. 

It’s not hard to tell who of the two men is Sam’s brother when they approach them in a deserted alley. Castiel introduces his associate Balthazar who inclines his head. 

“And this is Dean Winchester,” Castiel says redundantly, his spine a tad straighter than usual – which is saying something. 

“Well done,” Lucifer praises him. “I’m probably not too far off the mark when I guess he wasn’t in this condition when you found him?”

His stepbrother’s expression darkens. “No. Azazel tortured him.” While Castiel’s voice is deep as it is, this time it resembles more of a growl than anything else. 

Lucifer raises an eyebrow at him yet it is Dean who replies. 

“Yeah, I was pretty banged up when these guys found me; but they patched me right up. Told me you’re the reason I’m safe and sound and, well, here.” He glances around, presumably to indicate the continent rather than the city. 

“Indeed I am. And if you don’t mind, we should get going. I’m sure Sam can’t wait to see you again.”

Suddenly, Dean’s entire body lights up with a smile and Lucifer can see the family resemblance clearly now. Sam has the same ability - his smile is infectious as well; even more so his laugh. 

“Where to?” he asks, smoothing down his dark shirt underneath his leather jacket. Of course Sam’s hunter brother would wear a leather jacket. And heavy boots. Lucifer should have made bets it is so predictable. 

“I suggest we take a cab,” he drawls, shooting Castiel and Bathazar a pointed look. 

“Our work here is done then.” His stepbrother nods, inclines his head at Dean and makes to turn away yet a hand on his shoulder stops him. 

“Cas,” Dean say, the syllable too short for Lucifer to pinpoint the underlying emotion. The older Winchester may not have the most expressive face with his guard up like now, yet the man bears his soul in his eyes and right now, it looks like Castiel’s hurried departure might cause him physical pain. 

A lesser man wouldn’t be able to see it yet Lucifer is no such man. Besides, he can read Sam in much the same way. 

“You going back so soon?” Dean adds when Castiel is meeting his eyes. 

“No,” Lucifer cuts in, “he isn’t. Book yourself into a hotel, Castiel. I still have matters to discuss with you.” 

Castiel’s eyes widen in surprise for the briefest second. When he looks at Dean again, whose hand has dropped from his shoulder, a smile is tugging at Castiel’s lips. 

“We will meet again, Dean.”

After both Cas and Balthazar have disappeared and Dean turns around to find Lucifer raising an eyebrow at him, the hunter at least has the decency to blush under Lucifer’s omniscient gaze. 

The cab ride is quiet; he would never have pegged Dean for the talkative type anyway, at least not with a complete stranger he might be a bit afraid of. Lucifer doesn’t know what his stepbrother told Dean, though it seems to have been sufficient to make the Winchester weary. 

He observes from the side how Dean becomes increasingly more nervous the closer they are to Sam’s flat, even though he tries his best to conceal it. By the time Lucifer knocks on the door, he can almost smell Dean’s palms sweating. 

Sam opens the door in torn jeans and an old t-shirt, the sleeves stopping in the middle of his biceps, his long hair falling into his eyes in a way that has Lucifer almost reach out to brush them back behind Sam’s ear. 

He exercises self-restraint, however, instead stepping aside with a smirk. 

Sam’s face goes slack when he catches sight of his brother but his reaction is nothing compared to Dean’s who positively gapes up – way up – at Sam. 

“Sammy? What the hell did they feed you in law school to make you grow so much?”

Sam huffs, stepping back to allow them inside. 

“No, seriously, man. Look at you.”

“It’s great to see you, too, Dean.” 

Then they’re hugging and Lucifer tries his best to control his straying thoughts and to stop himself from subtly appreciating Sam’s backside. 

“I take it your brother will be staying with you?” he asks when the two men pull apart. 

“Sure thing, I’ll quip on the couch,” Dean supplies easily, obviously impressed by the spacious apartment he finds himself in. 

“Come on, man, I have a guest room.”

“What?”

“Don’t look like that, man, it’s a big flat.”

“I’ll give you that. You could fit in the average motel room twice. And we used to fit three of us in there.”

Lucifer bites back a question that is burning on his tongue, opting to piece the jigsaw together himself. He supposes Dean is referring to the time Sam spent with his brother and father. Hunting probably took them all over the country, setting up a makeshift home for a few weeks or maybe months in cheap motels. 

Suddenly, Sam having so much space to himself makes sense in its own, odd way. 

“I’ll leave you to it, then. I have a pressing appointment with a thriller I’m currently reading.”

Sam looks at him in surprise and Lucifer smirks. 

“What did you think I’m spending my free time on, Sammy? Eating babies and killing unicorns?”

Sam must be mollified by his brother’s return, for he deadpans, “Something like that,” with a straight face. 

Lucifer smiles at him, takes one last look at his brother who is watching them curiously and then leaves them to it. 

After all, he has a book to read. And perhaps indulge in some self-love with the image of Sam in tight jeans and a worn t-shirt still fresh on his mind…

*

When the door has fallen shut behind Lucifer, Dean blinks up at his brother. He still can’t wrap his mind around the fact of how big Sam has gotten, both tall and muscular. Probably has a lot of frustration to work off, judging by his build. 

But more pressing right now is something totally different. “Sammy? You let him call you Sammy?”

His brother shrugs, averting his eyes. “If I complained, he’d only use it more.”

“So what, you’re sensitive now? Come on, you could take him in a fight easily.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

That gets Dean’s attention. “What?”

“He has… hidden strengths.”

“And you know that, because…?” But Dean already has a feeling why exactly his brother knows. 

“Can we not talk about this now? There’re so many more important things right now than focussing on my boss! How are you? How’ve you been? What’s up with Dad?”

Dean wants to call him on being defensive yet he bites his tongue. Instead, he sighs and trots over to the sofa, collapsing onto it. It’s exactly as comfortable as it looks and Dean can’t hold back a contented moan. 

A few minutes later there’s a beer in front of him and he’s spilling the story of their latest hunt, how John vanished and how he himself was kidnapped. 

“Took five of Azazel’s thugs to take me down, I’m telling you. I almost got out but… Well, I’m not sure how long they used me as a punching bag but I guess at least two weeks. Maybe three. So anyway, one day Cas shows up and breaks me out. He and Balthazar patched me up and brought me here.” 

“It’s good to have you back, man.” Sam looks like he’s going to hug him again so Dean takes a pre-emptive slug from his beer. 

“Yeah, safe the chick-flick moments for, like, never. Better tell me what’s going on between you and that boss of yours? I mean that Lucifer guy is willing to go pretty damn far for you, Sammy.”

He watches his brother swallow hard before saying, “It’s nothing.”

“And that’s bullshit. Don’t give me that crap.”

“What do you want me to say, Dean?” 

“How about the truth? How about an explanation why your boss is moving heaven and hell to get me out of some demon’s claws? All that Cas knew was that Lucifer’s doing you some sort of favor. The why is what I don’t get.”

He attempts to stare his brother down, which used to work when they were younger and surprisingly, it’s still pretty effective. Sam runs a hand through his hair (and seriously, dude, his hair is longer than that of the last chick Dean took to bed), then rests his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. 

“Okay, short version?”

“Sure, give me the cliff notes. Just stop bullshitting me.”

“Lucifer’s one of the senior partners at Triple M, alright? And shortly after I started there, I met him and… Well, he’s… kind of intimidating with everyone except his own secretary. And me, apparently. He has a mean sense of humor and when I first met him, I guess I couldn’t bite my tongue but it made him respect me a little?” Sam takes a deep breath before he continues. “Anyway, he’s requested me to work on his cases and we got on really well. I thought… I thought there was something between us, chemistry, a connection, whatever you want to call it. But he made it pretty clear to me that there’d never be anything like it.”

It takes Dean a full minute to translate Sam-speak into plain English. “So you were falling for the fucker? What the hell, Sam? That guy is creepy.”

“Sorry,” his brother replies with a shrug, proving just how little he means it. 

“Well, okay, so you’re hot for the boss. Which is weird. Isn’t he a little too old for you? And what’s up with his name, though? And his connections? Anyway,” Dean shakes his head, “that still doesn’t explain why he sent a two man rescue party after me.”

“Right. Well, there’s this employee. Draco Malfoy, he was a Death Eater during the war-“

“Those were the ones that followed this Black Lord, right?”

“Dark Lord, Dean, it’s Dark Lord.”

“Hey, you’re the one who went to Stanford. Bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam shoots back before he can stop himself and it’s so familiar it hurts. Dean feels 22 again, arguing with Sammy in Dad’s car. Of course that was before Sam told them he’d be going away to college and leave them behind. 

Dean clears his throat. “You were saying?”

“This Draco. He’s been through some hard stuff. Apparently a group of wizards decided to show him his place when he and his father got back into the public eye. You see, they didn’t go to prison, even though they followed Voldemort and committed some serious crimes during the war. The four wizards held him in his own flat for three days and repeatedly raped him.”

Dean’s eyes go wide at that. He recalls darkly what Sam told him about the trials and sentences when he first got to Britain a few years ago and sure, it sucks that these Death Eaters didn’t get sentenced but rape? Really? 

“Draco didn’t report it; he thought no one would believe him or say he deserved what he got. Lucifer figured out what happened somehow, though, and last month, the attackers came back because Draco had got a lot of publicity along with Lucifer. Thankfully, Draco has Harry Potter on his side, who came and saved the day, and now Draco is pressing charges against the four men. He needed a lawyer.”

“And Lucifer said he’d get me out in exchange for your legal services?” Dean’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “Back the hell up, man. For one, how the fuck did Lucifer know about me? As in, that I’m your brother? Or that I was missing for that matter. And then, why did he have to bribe you like that? I got the impression you liked him. More than liked him, actually.”

“I…” Sam stops, huffing a sigh. “I don’t know. He’s powerful and has a lot of contacts. I don’t know what he did before he joined the family business, and I’m not sure I want to. And I was kind of ignoring him.”

Dean raises an eyebrow at that. 

“We had a fight on Halloween. It was about Draco, it was stupid but I haven’t talked to him since. I was angry – hell, I still am. So I guess he figured he needed to ply me with something.”

Sam doesn’t meet his eye, which only confirms Dean’s theory.

“You still like him, don’t you? Even though he’s been a giant ass?”

His brother’s head snaps up too fast and Dean mentally fist-bumps himself. On the outside, he holds up his hands. “I get it, man, he’s witty and smart and you’re not above thinking with your dick sometimes.”

Sam answers with a half-shrug and drains the rest of his beer, then he gets up to fetch another one. When he comes back, his embarrassment is gone (for which Dean is grateful, he’s had his share of almost chick-flick moments for the day. Hell, for the week). 

“What about Dad, Dean?”

Oh yes, the other elephant in the room. Hyppogriff, damn it. Dean supposes it’s bad when you hardly notice anymore that you’re thinking like a Muggle. 

“He disappeared about a month before I was taken. Maybe a bit later. It wasn’t too uncommon that he was working his own job somewhere while I was doing something else. All he had to do was take care of a demonic possession so when I couldn’t reach him after a few days I started looking for him, but nothing. Then Azazel took me.”

At Sam’s questioning look, Dean explains, “Yellow-eyed demon.”

They sit in silence for a while until his brother heaves a sigh. “I guess I could ask Lucifer if he has any way to look for Dad. I mean he has to be somewhere and he found you this quickly, so…” 

“Yeah. I could help with the search.” Dean knows he doesn’t need to explain it to his brother. It’s great to be back with him but Dean doesn’t fit into Sam’s life. What’s Dean supposed to do while Sam’s busy being a lawyer at that firm of his? 

Besides. Perhaps Lucifer will task Cas with finding their father. Dean’s sure the two of them would make a pretty bad-ass team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next timestamp will take a while but the next chapters of Repercussions are coming along nicely. Chapter 5 will be up as soon as it survived my betas :)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it, even though it’s totally unrelated, if we’re being honest ;) Kudos and comments make my day!
> 
> Thanks to [ vernie_klein](http://archiveofourown.org/users/vernie_klein/pseuds/vernie_klein) for betaing it anyway!


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